The Torn Wing

by Kiki Hamilton

  Tiki watched in fascination as Mrs. B. rinsed the wounds, then doused them with whiskey. Johnny woke up with a scream then, but it wasn’t long before his eyes rolled back in his head and he slept again. The stitching was exactly like stitching two pieces of fabric together—looping back and forth between the two pieces of skin and pulling them tight between each stitch. The older woman never flinched once. When Mrs. B. was done, three neat seams stretched along the top of Johnny’s skinny leg.

  “I’ve been caring for people practically since I could walk,” she said. “Raised four boys of my own before I lost them to the typhoid. It’s what I’m best at.”

  With Tiki’s help, she re-wrapped the wounds. She was surprised that Mrs. B. never questioned Johnny’s ragged state. It was as if she took poor street children under her wing every day.

  When they were finally done, Johnny was clean, his leg tightly stitched and wrapped in white bandages. For the moment, it appeared the combination of stitching and wrapping had stopped the bleeding. Mrs. Bosworth pushed off the edge of the bed with a tired sigh and brushed several strands of gray hair away from her face with the back of her hand. She reached down and smoothed the hair away from Johnny’s forehead.

  “We’ve done what we can for now. Let him sleep and we’ll check on him every hour or so. By the looks of it, we’re going to need to get some food in him right away, but we’ll let him rest for a bit.”

  When Tiki tried to thank Mrs. Bosworth for her help, the older woman put her rough hand along Tiki’s cheek. “I’ve seen what you’ve done for my William.” Her blue eyes got misty. “I know ‘twas you who brought my boy back from a living death.” Her hand dropped to Tiki’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “I’m glad to repay the kindness.”

  THE NEXT DAY Johnny awakened long enough for Fiona to get some hot broth in him and he promptly fell back to sleep. He was still fighting a fever and hadn’t even asked where he was.

  They took turns running upstairs to check on him, though Fiona volunteered most often. In the meantime, Tiki and Fiona played a game of chess in the parlor, though neither could really pay attention to the game. Fiona was worried about Johnny and Tiki couldn’t stop thinking about Rieker. It was a relief when Mr. Bosworth interrupted to announce a visitor.

  “A seamstress?” Fiona repeated. “What on earth is a seamstress doing here?”

  “S’pose she’s got the wrong address.” Tiki shrugged, staring glumly at the black king and imagining Donegal sitting on his throne arguing with Larkin. The visitor entered the room carrying a large bag.

  “Mistress Dunbar?” She was an older woman, past her childbearing years. Curly gray strands of hair escaped from the bonnet she wore on her head. Her eyes and skin were as washed out as the dress she wore, an air of exhaustion hanging around her like a cloak. “I’m Mrs. Emerson. Here to fit your gown today.” She made an awkward attempt at a curtsy, the crack of her knees loud across the room.

  “A gown?” Fiona said, looking at Tiki with wide eyes. “Whatever for?”

  Tiki stood up. “I have no idea.”

  The woman flopped the bag over the edge of a chair and was busy pulling the garment from inside. “Mr. William Richmond hired me several days ago. Rush job, it were. Had to be completed by next Friday.”

  Tiki sucked her breath in. She’d completely forgotten about the party to which Arthur had invited them.

  “Another ball—” Fiona’s wistful words died off in a gasp as Mrs. Emerson held the gown up for them to see. The fabric was a stunning shade of emerald green, exactly the color of Tiki’s eyes. The sheen of the fabric seemed to glow in the lamplight. Gold ruffles swept the front of the dress and anchored on each side with elegant red roses. The wide neckline was embroidered in gold with sequins and beads that twinkled in the light, almost as if the dress itself was pleased with the surprise.

  The older woman held the dress up. “You’ll have to try it on, Miss, for me to measure it properly.”

  Tiki stood rooted to the spot. Had Rieker bought this beautiful gown for her?

  “Teek.” Fiona shoved her from behind. “You have to put it on.”

  As if awoken from a stupor Tiki hurried forward. “Of course, of course. I’ll need my shoes—”

  “Ohp,” the woman clucked, reaching for her bag with one hand. “The young master sent matching shoes as well.” She dug around and eventually produced a pair of shoes made of the same satin fabric as the dress, embossed with gold ruffles and a single red rose.

  “Fer the love of Pete,” Fiona whispered, turning one of the beautiful shoes over and around in her hands. “I’ve never seen shoes so fancy.” She ran a finger along the side of the shoe, tracing the gold. “Have you, Teek?”

  “Never,” Tiki said in a whisper.

  “If you please, Miss….”

  “Yes, of course.” Tiki’s hands were shaking. She’d never owned a dress so fine. Not one that was actually meant to be hers. “Fiona, could you help me, please?”

  THE ACTUAL MEASURING didn’t take long. Mrs. Emerson had been a seamstress for many years and was quick and efficient. She exited, promising to return by Friday with the finished gown.

  “Oh Tiki,” Fiona cried after the woman had left. She held the skirt of her own well-worn dress out and twirled around the room. “Another ball.”

  “I think it’s just a party, Fi.”

  “Will you talk to Prince Leo and Prince Arthur again?” Her eyes glowed with excitement. “And this time we won’t even have to sneak you in.” She giggled and fell backwards over the arm of the sofa to stretch out across the cushions. Her voice was heavy with longing. “I wonder what it would be like to go to a ball.”

  A twinge of guilt coursed through Tiki. Fiona had saved her when she was homeless, starving and without a shilling to her name. Fi had shown her how to pick pockets to survive, and along with Shamus, had invited her to live with them in Charing Cross. It wasn’t a stretch to say she had saved Tiki’s life.

  “Did you see the ruffles on that dress?” Fiona sighed again. “They shone as if they were spun from real gold.”

  Tiki was only a year older than Fiona, yet, because of a moment of sheer lunacy when she’d stolen the Queen’s ring, she had already attended a masked ball at Buckingham Palace and had actually met the Queen of England. Now she had the opportunity to attend another party with the royals—this time as an invited guest. Would she be as gracious if it were Fiona attending instead of her?

  “Yes, it was quite beautiful,” Tiki replied. “But the only reason I’m invited is because Arthur is afraid there’s someone trying to murder the Queen or another of the royals. He wants Rieker and me to attend to see if we notice anyone unusual—” she raised her eyebrows— “if you know what I mean.” She grabbed Fiona’s ankles which still hung over the arm of the couch. “Maybe next time you can come too.”

  Fiona crossed her hands behind her head and rolled her eyes. “Nobody’s going to believe I belong at a ball with the royals anymore than they’d believe Johnny is a lord.”

  “Rubbish,” Tiki said. “We’ll dress you up in a beautiful gown and no one will be able tell the difference between you and those society girls, I promise.” But in her heart Tiki wondered if there would ever be a ‘next’ time. Their lives were shifting and changing as though at the mercy of the wind. And an ill wind, it seemed to be.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  After not sleeping the night before, and the anxiety of finding Johnny so ill and having to bring him back to Grosvenor Square, Tiki decided it was silly to once more pace the floor of the parlor all night. But sleep had eluded her as the same questions swirled around her head: worrying about Rieker, questioning if Larkin had lied, yet again. The dulcet chimes of the clock had tolled three a.m. once again before she had drifted off.

  TIKI AWOKE TO the sense of being watched.

  She blinked her eyes open and slowly looked around the dark room. A shadow leaned against a nearby wall. With a startled cry, she jerked upright and scoo
ted backwards in the bed, reaching for her dagger.

  “Teek, it’s me,” a soft voice whispered and the shadowy figured moved closer, holding out a hand to soothe her.

  “Rieker?” she whispered in disbelief.

  “Yes. I’m sorry to wake you. I had to make sure you were safe.”

  Tiki jerked the covers to the side and leapt out of the bed. She threw her arms around his neck, ignoring for the moment all the questions she had for him. “I was so scared you’d been hurt. That they’d captured you—or—worse.” She leaned back to look into his face. “I couldn’t get back to help you. I was desperate—” she clung to his lapels— “I didn’t know what to do.”

  Rieker wrapped his arms around her. “Tiki, shhh,” he said softly in her ear, holding her close. “I’m fine.” He smoothed her silky hair, letting the strands slip between his fingers. “It was a brave thing you did, confronting Donegal. I’d never have guessed Larkin would protect you like that.”

  Tiki pulled back. “Protect me? But the stone didn’t roar—and she betrayed you.”

  He pulled Tiki down to sit on the edge of the bed with him. “Larkin made it seem like she would betray me, but in truth she didn’t reveal anything that Donegal didn’t already know. It was a ploy to give you time to get away from him.”

  “It was?” Tiki imagined the scene in her head again. Larkin, resplendent in her gold outfit, balanced on the shoulders of those beasts of men, taunting Donegal. “But who were those men?”

  “The Macanna. The men and women who followed Finn centuries ago when he ceded his right to the throne.”

  “Why are they with Larkin?”

  He shrugged. “That I don’t know. Maybe they’ve joined with the Seelies to unseat Donegal.”

  “But if that’s true, then she took a terrible risk for me.”

  “As you did for her. Even so, never forget she wants something from you, Tiki.”

  Tiki shuddered. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine herself risking her life on behalf of Larkin. “But how could she possibly escape when Donegal had guards surrounding the entire room?”

  Rieker shook his head. “I’m sure Larkin had a plan.” His voice turned bitter. “She always does.”

  His leg pressed against hers from hip to knee and warmed her through her thin nightgown. Tiki was acutely aware of how close he sat next to her, unchaperoned in her bedroom at night. Though terribly inappropriate, there was not one part of her that wished it any different.

  “But what about the stone?” She leaned against him, enjoying the warmth their two bodies created. “It didn’t roar, it didn’t do anything. Was Larkin lying about that?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. It all seems a bit too easy, don’t you think?” His voice was cautious. “If there’s one thing I know about faeries, it’s that they never make anything easy. It’s always a riddle—the truth hidden beneath layers of lies and plots and secrets.”

  Tiki knew it all too well. “What was that jester whispering about in your ear?”

  “Oh, some nonsense about fate… what was it? Oh right. ‘Fate never crushed those who truth never deceived.’” Rieker laughed. “Whatever that means.”

  He wrapped his warm fingers around hers. “Maybe Larkin believed all you had to do was touch the Stone of Tara, or maybe that was a just a diversion to forward a bigger plot that she’s brewing—I don’t know. But given what they’ve done to protect the Seelie throne—” Rieker’s words became more urgent— “to protect the world of Faerie—it seems like they would do more than just place a sacred stone under a throne. It was too easy for Donegal to simply kill O’Riagáin and take over. Just as it’s too easy for Larkin and the Macanna to battle Donegal and reclaim the throne. There’s a piece missing. But what? That’s what I can’t figure out.”

  Tiki searched his face. Was he as confused as she felt? Or did he know more than he was telling? Did he have other secrets? “Sean told me something.”

  Rieker threaded his long fingers through hers, the gesture somehow intimate, his touch making Tiki feel weak inside. “I’m glad you got to meet him, Tiki.”

  She searched his eyes, wanting to believe him. “Sean said that he’s taken you to the Otherworld. That you can come and go on your own now. Is that true? Is that where you go when you disappear?”

  For once, she didn’t see the guarded look that so often masked Rieker’s thoughts and emotions. His eyes never wavered from hers. “Yes. I hated not telling you about him, but you were so upset by Larkin stealing Clara, I knew it wasn’t the right time. I didn’t think you’d understand.” His words rang with honesty and the cold lump she’d had in her chest since Sean had told her, eased a little.

  She looked into his smoky eyes. “Understand what?”

  “Why I need to know.” His voice was thick with emotion. “They took everything from me, Teek. Everything. I have to understand why.” The muscles in his jaw flexed and she sensed the determination that brewed just below the surface. “I have to understand who and what I am.”

  Tiki did understand. The same desire for answers burned inside of her now, making her question everything she knew.

  “I had a lot of time to think while I was there, trying to get back, “Rieker said, “wondering if you’d gotten back to London safely. Time to think about everything—us—who we are—what kind of life we might have.” He paused and his voice got softer. “What kind of life I might have if I lost you.”

  Rieker threaded her hair behind her ear with his other hand, his fingers lingering against her cheek. “We’re different, Tiki,” he said softly. “We’re caught between two worlds and honestly, I don’t know which one we belong in. But I do know this—I don’t want to be either place without you.”

  He looked deep into her eyes. “I believe we found each other because we’re meant to be together.” He leaned forward and his lips covered hers. He was tender at first and Tiki’s lips moved beneath his. His kiss deepened, his long fingers threading through her hair as he pulled her closer. Their tongues met, a new burst of sensations warming Tiki from the inside out. The fire that suddenly burned inside her melted away any questions of how she felt about Rieker. She couldn’t hide from this truth any longer.

  Long moments stretched by as they kissed until Tiki pulled back. She ran her fingertips gently over Rieker’s cheekbone, memorizing his face. She soaked up the moment, when he was so close, so open. “Do you believe Larkin saved you?” Tiki finally asked.

  Rieker tilted his head. “She did save me,” he finally said. “There’s no question about that.”

  “You believe her?”

  Rieker ran his fingers through his hair, leaving the dark locks in tangled disarray. “Sean also told me that Donegal was responsible for the deaths of my family.” He tightened his fingers into a fist, then released them. “It’s taken me a long time to be objective, but it would make more sense. Larkin could have drowned me that night, but instead she held my head above the water.”

  Tiki wasn’t sure what to think. To understand Larkin was like trying to capture smoke in your hands.

  “There have been plenty of other opportunities when she could have done me harm,” Rieker continued, “but she hasn’t.” His eyes were almost black. “The truth of the matter is that she risked her own life to save mine. When Donegal found out what she’d done he ordered her wings clamped and had her thrown in prison. In the Otherworld that’s the equivalent of a death sentence.”

  A tangle of emotions warred in Tiki’s chest. “Do you think it’s because of what Kieran said? That she saved you because she loves you?”

  “I don’t believe Larkin is in love with me, if that’s what you’re asking, though she likes to act that way at times. I think it’s a game to her. I believe I’m part of a greater plan she has that now involves you. Or maybe you’ve always been a part of it—I don’t know anymore.” He smoothed her sleeve back to reveal her birthmark. He ran a finger gently over the dark lines. “If Larkin has told us the trut
h, then you bear the birthmark of Finn MacLochlan. You are his heir.”

  Tiki watched Rieker’s finger trace the pattern on her skin, his touch creating a warm tingling sensation. She raised her head. “And what do you think her plan is?”

  Rieker looked into Tiki’s eyes, holding her gaze. “If you are truly the heir to the Summer Court—what better way for Larkin to gain control of a kingdom than to put a puppet on the throne?”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “I told you he’d be back,” Mrs. Bosworth said in a sing-song voice as she bustled around the kitchen the next morning. “He always shows up eventually, don’t you, young sir?” She beamed at Rieker.

  “My business took a little longer than I expected.” Rieker spoke between bites of sausage. “How’s the patient this morning?” Though surprised when Tiki had informed him of Johnny’s arrival, Rieker had supported Tiki’s decision to bring him to the town-home to recover.

  “He’s hungry, which is always a good sign,” Mrs. B. replied. “We’re going to change the wrap on his leg and check his stitches this afternoon. Fiona’s been a brilliant help.” She beamed at the girl who sat at the table with Rieker. “Made all the difference in that boy’s recovery, I’d say.”

  LATER THAT DAY another storm was gathering, dimming the daylight until it was as dark as night, the air gritty with the ever-present coal dust. Thunder rumbled in the distance above Buckingham Palace and the dark clouds overhead threatened rain as Tiki and Rieker drove to the Birdkeeper’s Cottage at the end of the lake in St. James Park. Rieker had insisted they pay a visit to Mamie, Queen Victoria’s old lady-in-waiting to see what information they might glean from her.

  Their shoes crunched on the gravel walkway as they approached the small front door.

  “Arthur made reference to getting information from Mamie when we saw them last,” Rieker said, as he rapped his knuckles against the arched wooden door. The sound echoed in the quiet afternoon. “Leo said it was Mamie who had informed him of an fáinne sí—the meaning of your birthmark. As children we called her the witch woman,” Rieker replied in a low voice. “Even then, we knew she had knowledge that others didn’t.”